


Stories of an Ancient

by Ignace_Karkasy7



Category: Warhammer 40.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:48:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28143369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ignace_Karkasy7/pseuds/Ignace_Karkasy7
Summary: A New Marine has a chat with a far older one.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	Stories of an Ancient

Brother Amiron Walked the halls of the strike cruiser in silence save for the tramping of his power armour boots upon the adamantium deck. The look upon his face one of contemplation, his mind ablaze in thoughts on his new role. Amiron was new to 5th company, Having only recently finished his trials to become a full astartes. “Not just any astartes.” he thought to himself as he allowed a company serf to pass at a junction, “A primaris too!” His head was still filled with wonder and overwhelming pride at the honor granted to him and his four other battle brothers who now made up 5th companies 1st assault intercessor squad. 

Amiron Tried to shake off his feelings of bewilderment that he had been chosen from so many others and that he had passed the trials where others had fallen. He thought that he had come to terms with it long ago but how long ago was a year in his now possibly infinite life. He shook himself, “focus emperor damn you, focus on the mission at hand!” Indeed a mission was very soon at hand. Muster on the embarkation deck was scheduled in an hour and sergeant Lanthios had made sure that the newest squad would not be caught unready. His helmet hung near his holstered bolt pistol and his chainsword hung heavy upon his right hip. 5th company had struck out across the Imperium 4 weeks ago in search of worlds to save and had come across a greenskin invasion on the planet that now turned beneath them. “A slaughter it will be.” Thought Amiron, “The beating of an unthinking, evil, xeno!” This helped steady him slightly, yet did little to quell his anxiety. “I need a place to think, I’ll wear holes in the ship otherwise!” This decided, Amiron headed for the ships Library. 

The strike cruisers Library was an eclectic collection of scrolls, tomes and other writings scattered across shelves that stood tall as the ceiling. Most of the physical works were writings found on wolds not within the Imperiums grasp or those of which all other copies had been lost. The computers of the ship held all of the common works of the imperium should he wish to see them. Amiron had found a calmness in the library in his brief time with the 5th. The smell of parchment and vellum reminded him of something though he could not place what it might be. 

Amiron had become so engrossed in the shelves of documents that he almost didn’t hear the thundering stomps behind him until the ship's deck vibrated hard enough to shake the shelves before him. He turned suddenly to find himself staring at a kabalite green sarcophagus, its front and edges trimmed in bronze gold and the proud shield emblem of the chapter painted carefully upon the left arm joint of the massive combat weapon, beneath which the heat blackened head of a heavy flamer poked out. The dreadnaught turned towards Amiron and a slight crackle emanated from the vox grill before a soft, deep voice echoed across the room. “Greetings brother.”

Amiron took a short step back and a deep chuckle could be heard from the vox grill, slightly metallic in its sound, “apologies for startling you.” Amiron quickly regained his composure, “none is needed ancient, the fault was mine, I allowed myself to become distracted.” “Just be sure it doesn’t happen on the battlefield.” The dreadnought chastised. The bulky frame creaked slightly as the vision slit moved up and down, scrutinizing him. “ You are a new face.” The dreadnought said at last. “Indeed Ancient.” Amiron agreed, “My battle brothers and I arrived in 5th company 11 months ago.” “That explains it.” Intoned the dreadnought, “ I was only recently awakened from my short rest.” The Dreadnaught straightened “What do you hail by brother?” “Amiron.” he Replied, “First assault intercessor squad.” “A fine name.” the dreadnaught said, “a name worthy of many great deeds I hope, My name is Venerable Dareadon, Ancient of rights.” 

Amiron almost fell to his knees. Venerable Dareadon was one of the oldest dreadnaughts in the entire chapter, having lived for a full four millenia. He had seen almost every action of the 5th company and what he had not seen he had been told and remembered. It was for this reason he held the title of Ancient of rights, for it was his duty to remember the history that could not easily be written down. Battles and troop movements could be recorded, yes, but Dareadon kept the more personal and emotion filled tales of war. 

Daeradon noticed Amirons reaction. “Ooh don’t start groveling.” he almost chuckled, “My ego has not swelled as much as my age.” Daredon looked towards Amiron, the closest approximation to direct eye contact the dreadnought could manage, “ Now, what ails you Amiron? It is not common to find brother here before a drop, what plagues your mind?” “If I must be honest, Ancient.” Amiron began, Hesitantly, “I am nervous about this mission, I am worried about failing the chapter.” The dreadnought nodded, the action causing his whole upper half to bend up and down, “Not an uncommon reaction, We may not feel fear of our enemies yet we do not have our wits removed. I find anxiety to be a useful tool. In small doses anxiety can be turned into cation, and against this foe cation is always advised. The orks may be the greatest threat to the galaxy, all too often are imperial defeats the result of underestimating the greenskins.”

Amiron nodded, “Indeed the orks are some of the evilest beings in the galaxy.” Daeradon looked towards Amiron, “Evil? Ohh no the greenskins are not the greatest evil, if anything they are some of the most honorable xenos I have ever encountered.” Amiron looked up, his face showing a confused expression, “But you just said they were the galaxy's greatest threats!” Daeradon chuckled again, “Threat yes, but think on it, from a certain point of view our holy crusade to retake the stars for humanity, as is our birthright, is the greatest threat to the galaxy. We are hardly evil, the orks may have the complete capacity to wage war across the galaxy for eternity, yet they do not do so out of spite or malice.” Amiron was now more confused than ever, “Then why do they fight with such viciousness?” Here the dreadnought gave a full laugh, a hearty deep laugh that rattled the frames of the shelves next to them, “Because they enjoy it!”  
Now Amiron was more confused than ever, “Enjoy it? How can a race enjoy war and not be evil?” The dreadnaught once more fixed Amiron with that eiry stare, “ Again think on it, do you not feel pride in your abilities as a warrior, do you not feel joy at reclaiming the planets of the Imperium. I know many marines of many chapters who relish in combat and are lauded as heros, the furthest thing from a villain.” Daeradon straightened and continued, “As I have understood it, from the tomes I have been able to be granted access to by the Ordo Xenos, orks need battle as much as you and I need air to breath and food to eat, it is a necessary ingredient to their life in order to survive. Most seek out battle against foes who can give them a fight they find exciting, rare is the ork who intentionally kills innocents or civilians, what do they matter to him when there are soldiers to hit with his axe? 

Amiron was still not convinced, “you said earlier that they were honorable?” Daeradon nodded, “Indeed I did.” He looked almost thoughtful in a brief pause that followed, “we have enough time, perhaps a tale of mine might convince you on this matter?” “I shall listen ancient.” Said Amiron, “though I doubt it shall change my mind.” “ Very well.” Intoned the dreadnought, “Let me see, it was some 20 years ago, we had just returned from our journey to Macragge to pay fealty to the newly awakened lord Gulliman, Ahh what a spectacle that was.” Amiron was once more filled with awe, “You met the primarch!” “Not met, more saw.” Said Daeradon, “I was present but only the Chapter Master spoke any words to him, and if any words beyond those of ceremony were spoken I could not hear. But yes I had been selected to accompany the Chapter Master on that mission. He is still sorely grieved to not have been able to join on the primarchs ill fated journey, but duty called near home. We had received word of orkish incursions near enough to Jennia to cause concern and thus we had sallied forth to push them back.” Daeradon paused, “A scenario not unlike our current situation.” he said. 

The dreadnought continued, “We had dropped into the ruins of a small city where they had overrun the local defence forces. These orks were of the clan that likes to loot anything and everything they can you see. The Captain had seen fit for me to accompany 2nd tactical squad to provide support against the orkish walkers. I had slain more than a dozen of their own dreadnaughts when we came upon the remnants of an old square in the west of the city. The square was filled with orks looting vehicles and other devices for metal and weapons. As we pulled up short of the square I spied a singular ork atop a pile of rubble. This ork was clearly the leader of the group, He was half again the height of the orks below him, his muscles bulged through the gaps in his blue painted plate and his right hand had been replaced by a massive power klaw that crackled with blue energy, his left held a massive gun with what looked to be a miniature rocket haphazardly stuck on the front.

We did not remain unnoticed for long. One of the orks noticed us a few seconds after we arrived and shouted to his fellows. Soon a hail of fire had poured down on our position even as a massive horde of xenos charged towards us. However the ork atop the rubble stood there looking down upon us. Even as the squad and I were firing into the mass of greenskins his voice rang out over the square.” The dreadnaughts vox grill crackled and the unmistakable harsh accent of an ork emanated forth, “Iz Not Had A Gud Foight In Awaihl Beakies! Com At Me Dread! Showz Me Dat Beakies Know How Ta Hav A Gud Skrap!” “Such a blatant challenge stoked my ego I must admit.” Said Dearadon, “Yet his words had intrigued me as well, they were not the arrogant claims of a champion of chaos, nor the condescending tones of the eldar, but as if we were old friends about to engage in a sparring match and not a fight to the death. I could not back down, and so I pushed through the horde before me.

They did nothing to stop me, after all I had been called by their leader. They would be stealing his glory by challenging me. My lascannons raised as I reached the base of his rubble mound and I lifted my combat arm in readiness. All he did was laugh, a deep rough chuckle. Then with a furious roar he threw himself at me. His speed of attack was understandable and I had already prepared a shot with my lascannons that would end him there and then, what I had not expected was his nimbleness in the charge. He dodged left and right even as he bounded down the mound and my shots went wide with frustration.” Dearadon sighed, “I admit that my judgment that day was poor. The warboss responded with his own rocket which impacted my carapace and blew me back slightly, more than enough opportunity for him to swing his power klaw around and slice clean through the barrels of my lascannons which I had managed to swing in front of myself. 

I managed to regain my footing and sprayed a gout of flame at him so as to buy myself time to fully recover, yet this time it was not his nimbleness but his resilience which saved him from my efforts as he simply charged through the fire, oblivious or perhaps indifferent to the heat. Even as I raised my combat arm to meet his charge, I saw his expression. It was not one of anger or rage, but sheer unbridled pleasure. His claw met my fist and finally I held the advantage as my superior strength pushed him down. He quickly moved his klaw away and swung around behind me. Before I could react he had torn through the hydraulics of my left leg and I came crashing down. Even as I lay there I could see his klaw rising, prepared to strike down upon my sarcophagus and finish the job of ending me. The whole while I was cursing my own foolishness and ego. The klaw seemed to hang there for an eternity, time had slowed to a crawl and I could only barely make out the faint blue energy which wreathed the hunk of metal.

Then a boom sounded and the warboss turned in time to see a predator autocannon shell impact the wall behind him. The wall began to crumble and he rushed to the side to avoid being crushed, my own armour protected me from the rubble tumbling down around us. I could hear shouts and gunfire before a techmarine arrived to assist me to my feet and repair enough to return to the strike cruiser.” Dearadon Paused there and looked at Amiron whose face was one of awe at the tale of battle. “And the ork?” Asked Amiron desperately, “What of him?” Dearadon gave the equivalent of a shrug, “ I suspect he yet lives. A few orkish ships escaped our purge as our fleet was too small to blockade the planet. An ork like that would not die so easily.” Dearadon looked toward Amiron again, “Do you see, the orks see combat as a game. A daily activity of exertion and competition. And with that game comes sportsmanship.” Amiron nodded slowly, “ I apologise for my ignorance.” “Worry not.” Dearadon said, “you will live long enough to gain wisdom aplenty.” 

The sound of the klaxton shook both out of their contemplation. The automated voice of a servitor stated, “10 minutes until drop, all combat units report to your designated dropcraft.” The dreadnought stood with Amiron. “Inform your sergeant.” Said Dearadon, “That I wish to accompany him planetside. I feel smoe ranged support would benefit your squad well.” “of course ancient.” said Amiron. The dreadnought looked towards the launch deck. “It has often been said that battle is much like a play. I hear the opening coming to a close. The first act begins.” The dreadnought turned back to Amiron. “The curtain is rising brother, Let us enter stage left.”


End file.
